I know we spoke the other day about this, but I have a sneaking suspicion a reminder- a written, physical proof- of whatâs going on might be beneficial... I know itâs something that Iâd appreciate
As you know, somethingâs wrong with Jay. He tried to use the same sort of Magic I have in the past, with transformation charms and whatnot, but he did something else to it... He tried to make it more permanent but itâs backfiring in an odd way. The Magic in that charm has run out, but itâs still pulling from him to keep going. To stay alive. And in the process itâs hurting Jay
I have a lead on how to separate Jay from this home grown magic, safely! But Iâll probably be gone for a few days to retrieve it. Communication may be a tad spotty, but I promise I wonât be gone long! A handful of days at most!
Until then, stay safe, and donât worry too much. Iâll check in when I can. And if you can think of any weird thing to keep an eye out for that youâd like me to bring back, let me know!
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You couldnât help yourself, could you? Just one day of intense melancholy and you were dragged back into waiting. Perhaps thatâs not fair. You never intended on waiting by the side again for a full day when you knew, deep down, that thereâd be no change. But that didnât prevent you from wanting to check. Just a peek. Just in case...
You never made it all the way in. You didnât see the warning signs, and even if you did, thereâd be no way you could escape in time.Â
The explosion didnât kill you, but flying debris to the back of the head did the trick.Â
Today was a much better day, as far as your mood was concerned, but it left the bitter aftertaste of yesterdayâs yearning. You could make it out of the cabin and out for a walk, but your feet brought you to his temple once more. The teal-green stones snarled by vines and moss and roots. Looking at it makes you sigh. Itâs a beautiful symbol of heartache and tested patience.Â
As long as youâre here, you decide to go in, working your way through the tight, collapsed corridors towards the center. Jave would be lying there, peacefully asleep, regally dressed. Itâs too warm for Sentry to exist, so you took his scarf off the jagged shelf several months ago. The trickle of water would be shimmering in the sunlight allowed through the cracks in the ceiling, and the floor would be lined with roots highlighting the brick pattern on the floor with unopened flowers waiting for the right moment to bloom...
You slow in your climbing and take a breath. Maybe this was a bad idea... And maybe it wasnât just sadness making you think so. Maybe something was off. Something in your gut, or your head, or...Â
A force pushes you back and out. You scramble along the grassy floor for a footing. Thereâs a sharp pain at the back of your skull that makes your head sing and your eyes see white... Then red... Then black.Â
...
Thereâs a sensation, not quite a vision. A faint and steady beat. Each beat means... Something. It causes a feeling, even if âfeelingâ isnât something that can happen in this moment...Â
The beat stops, but faintly, and slowly. Thereâs a sensation of relief...
...
When you open your eyes, Ghostie is above you. He looks upset. No, not how heâs normally upset, but... Distressed...
When you look past him, you become distressed. Thereâs a clear sky, with faint clouds of dust. Sitting up slowly and looking down, thereâs once tall trees cut down and reduced to fresh splinters. Rushing to your feet much too fast for your spinning head and looking forward.Â
Thereâs nothing but a crater. And bits of vegetation turned to mush. And a handful of teal-green chunks of rock.Â
Alright! Youâve had a day to mope and youâre done now! Well, maybe not instantly. After assuring Ghostie youâd be back (with a cup of coffee), you walk your hungover self to Frenchieâs place to talk and recover a bit, which isnât the best idea on your part, since Toby is still a frighteningly, painfully loud baby, but you figure itâs equal repayment for acting like a baby yourself last night.
You apologize for your actions, in case you worried him but... Honestly, you donât entirely regret getting drunk last night. You didnât do anything stupid, and all embarrassment was kept to crying with Ghostie inside his temple and the phrase âUnlitty the tittyâ unleashed to the internet, which was hilarious to your drunken self for some reason. You regret the impulse to go and specifically get drunk, and you regret the hangover, but otherwise it almost felt cathartic! Especially the after-morning breakfast with your Moirail and your brother.Â
It all felt... Good. It felt right.Â
And you know what else feels right? Adventure. Getting off your sorry, sad butt and doing something! Youâve been in a depressed, anxious slump for 3 years, waiting around and keeping busy or distracted with small projects while remaining stationary. Youâd like to add more to your story once again.
You make a pit stop at your cabin and gather some things. Small and useful things, sharp and magic things, all tucked inside a moderately sized dingy green backpack and slung on your shoulder. Thereâs also two large thermoses stashed in there next to the water, one with tea for yourself and one with the coffee you promised.Â
When you make it back to the temple and ask Ghostie if heâd like to join you on a trip to nowhere in particular, he agreed. You half suspect itâs because you were holding his coffee still, but he gets ready after the exchange anyway. He goes to the back room enclosed with a curtain and gathers his own things... You hope itâs not just a case of pocketing marijuana. He seems empty handed when he emerges, and you worry for a second before remembering that heâs skilled with, and probably prefers, a sylladex more than you.Â
Ready as youâll ever be, and more than you used to be, you hold the portal charm in your hand and think a moment. Where do you go? Stick close to the planet, or venture into the Multiverse? Go looking for specific myths or just leap into the unknown?
Still partially undecided, you flick the necklace into the air with one main thought. You want to explore. You want that taste of adranalyn again, and you want to get lost internally and externally. You want a bloody adventure, damn it!
You glance back at Ghostie, feeling a momentary sting of panic you unearthed recently, and smoothing it over. Ghostie would follow, he wants to join you. And if he didnât, thatâd be okay too.Â
The other side of the swirling vortex of light shows less of the pine forest that youâre used to and more of a sickly heavy aired jungle. Underneath and entangled within that jungle is yet another temple, but this oneâs just as different as all the others you've seen. Itâs not at all cleaned up like Zackâs or Frenchieâs or the Knight of Spaceâs, but more rundown like one belonging to an unawoken god. The bricks are gigantic and a tan-brown-golden color, most seem to be crumbling from age or pushed out of the way by twisting, persistent greenery. Every crack seems to be caked with moss or tracked with thick vines, both somehow larger and... Wilder than the oneâs at Javeâs place. And attached to these monster vines are... Pumpkins? W... Why pumpkins? In a jungle? They litter the area; Covering the jungle floor around the place, taking up spots where bricks once sat, hanging precariously from vines suspended in the structure. Big ones, small ones, rotten and fresh, oblong and perfect and so, so orange. Take a step forward and youâd probably bust a toe kicking one.Â
After several moments of staring at the scene before you, you grin. Itâs seems to be ripped right out of a movie stereotype that tells the viewers âthis is where Action and Adventure and Daring Deeds happen, folks! Canât get any more Adventure-y than this decrepit landscape right here!â And yet thereâs just that delicate detail of the absurd, that unexpected element that piques your interest so well...
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The only bright side to your day is that you are smart enough to grab something as (relatively) harmless as tongs to throw against the far wall, and not a recently-replaced glass beaker or a small knife or something equally breakable and able to break respectively.Â
You were just... Off. At least thatâs what youâd say (after a prompt âfuck offâ of course) if someone were to ask. And while that was true, it would be more accurate to say that you were distracted.Â
What did you do? You went over it a few times in your head and concluded that only half the answer was correct. You talked with someone, irritated them into anger and frustration and now they wanted nothing to do with you. It was an unsurprising result to the point of... well, you sort of planned it that way. Itâs simply how things worked so why not embrace that sort of cold, calculating, uncaring jackass in a labcoat facade? It was better than getting your hopes up by disappointing peers at least.
âyouâre a bad friend.âÂ
That... That was not part of this. Not part of any of it. A stupid pesky variable that-... At no point did you try to be friends, or âallowâ friendship to take place. Going over the conversations in your head, at no point were you a kind person, or have the intention of kindness. There was no possible way they could misunderstand your actions as âfriendlyâ so why...Â
Why did they call you a friend?Â
And if you knew you were going to push them away, at least eventually, as stubborn as the little bastard had been...
Why were you considering this? Itâs just as you said, youâve done nothing except give this random dude a hard time on the internet (and the brief moment you met in person) and despite the likely delirious message earlier mentioning you as a âfriendâ bad or otherwise, you were no such thing to one another.Â
Maybe... Maybe it was your curious nature getting the better of you. Maybe it was your more bitter side seeking revenge- they never actually paid for those broken glasses- and the chance to torment them in person did just that. Maybe it was unrelated to them specifically and more related to your project.Â
You glance to the side, the light of the monitor in front of your reflecting off of your owl-eyed glasses. On the table next to you was a sorry tangle of wires and mess of metal bits and bobs all centered around an âupgraded,â outdated blackberry type phone. An old one that your tutor no longer wanted or needed, apparently. It was as good as trash, so it was given to you. Isnât that nice?
That little bastard got himself here somehow, didnât they? And you managed to get them back... Using these coordinates, maybe you could do the same without too much hassle. And if there was a hassle, apparently they at least had internet over there and you could continue working on things while their sorry ass found a way to get you back home. And the worst case scenario was that your atoms were ripped asunder by tampered-with transportalizer tech. So, a win-win for everyone, you suppose.Â
You grab an old backpack and stuff as much stuff in there that you risk taking with. Spare parts for your tech, spare pencils for your notes, even a few of the more stable chemicals along with the miniature chemistry kit you fiddled with. It was technically for kids, with the plastic and the tiny measurements, but it was also good for a scientist on the go. And yes there was such a thing! That thingâs name is Gwen.
Finally you take the little gadget and type in the coordinates, building up the energy with a small hand crank installed on the side and aiming it at a wall. With a crack of off-green lightening, reality ripped open in front of you.Â
It...Â
It actually worked!
Ha... Haha... Hahahah!!!
Because youâre a Mad scientist, and not a Crazy scientist, you toss a pencil through the portal, just to check! and shoot John a message.Â
astutescientist: Iâm going to throw a pencil over
astutescientist: Let me know if it went through
marrowflavoredâ:Â why did u throw a pencil at me >:(
Holy SHIT! IT ACTUALLY WORKED!!!
astutescientist: For science!!!
astutescientist: >:D